


Dark Silent Prayer

by cosmicsupersass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Slupin, discussion of religion by someone who knows nothing about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicsupersass/pseuds/cosmicsupersass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius would do anything to ease Remus' suffering.  This is the only way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Silent Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back intending for it to be a silly fic based on a post on tumblr about rimjobs for Jesus. Needless to say, it got deep faster than the Marianas Trench.
> 
> Enjoy, and I always appreciate your feedback!

Several shafts of moonlight filter through the window, illuminating their bed but leaving the rest of the small bedroom pitch black and making Remus’ mouth just visible where it silently sucks at Sirius’ neck. Without even thinking, Sirius takes Remus, his Remus, his sleepy but needing bundle of werewolf closer into his arms, achingly pressing kisses from his lips to his jawline and everywhere in between before moving into a rhythm that is all theirs, that is only siriusremussiriusremus and has a character all it’s own. It is ingrained in their bones, where it can be found at all times, even in their half-conscious state. 

Sirius sprawls out his pliant lover on his stomach and claws his boxers off with blunt, fumbling fingers. He draws himself away from Remus slowly, barely able to pull himself away, only to align himself along Remus in a different way. Remus knows without Sirius having to tell him what Sirius wants; Remus presses his chest to the bed and slides his knees up, parting his legs slightly to reveal his puckered opening and hardening length. Sirius wraps his arms around his beloved’s thighs and leans in lick up and down Remus’ crack before finally opening Remus’ hole with the squirming, tasting flesh of his tongue.

They exhale harshly together, Remus’ breath scraping up his windpipe before exiting noisily into the still night and Sirius’ hot breath making Remus’ rim pull together and gape sporadically, but other than their breathing, all is quiet in the tiny cottage. Sirius closes his eyes and dives back in. Their love is mute and blind in the dead of night; they know each others bodies like their own – they need neither light to see nor words of gentle direction to flush pleasure into the other.

Sirius thinks it must be the dog in him that needs this, needs to wake his mate in the dead of night and press his face to him and get as close as he physically can to Remus’s center. Or maybe it’s a habit bred of these uncertain times that makes him ache to know in the only way he truly can that Remus is still here, still alive and okay. Sirius knows that Remus is far from minding – he thinks Remus may even have woken him, but at this hour, at this low level of consciousness, everything is amorphous. Sirius feels the quivering of flesh in the many places he and Remus are pressed together and he scarcely knows which one of them is shaking. 

Really, neither should have woken the other tonight. It’s only a few days to the full moon, and Remus needs all the rest he can get, especially with the added stress of his new job and their work for the order, which makes sleep elusive at all hours. And he really, really should have just stroked Remus’ hair the way he likes it and pretended not to know what they both crave, but Sirius can’t say no, not for anyone’s own good, when Remus is so open around him, pulling Sirius closer with his sheep trust and desire. So Sirius doesn’t, can’t, resist; he pushes his face harder to Remus, his cheekbones pressing to the swell of Remus’s ass, his eyes fluttering open and closed as his mouth and nose sink further into an essence that is all Remus. He plunges his tongue as far as it will go into Remus’s hole and feels Remus shudder beneath him. His chest arches into the mattress, his ass held high in the air for Sirius to lather with attention. Sirius worships the body spread out before him as he twists and pulls his tongue, stretching and probing and pleasuring Remus with every move.

It was long ago that Sirius had given up the prejudiced, aristocratic religious beliefs of the Black family, those where and aloof, uncaring God favored their pureblood heritage and scowled down upon all those that did not fit into that category. He can’t believe in a God that pits him against his friends, Remus, the people he loves, and aligns him instead with his loathsome relations, but in his uncertain days, he finds himself picturing a benevolent God who, on some troubled days, seems the only one who Sirius can turn to with all that is wrong in the world. The one who can in some way tip the scale in favor of the Order before it’s too late, the one who can wipe away the suffocating, overarching fear in his life that someone he loves will be next, one who can ease, in some small way, Remus’s suffering.

Remus is breathing rapidly all around him, and Sirius can feel Remus shaking to the bone with both his orgasm and the moon so close, so he holds him tight, tighter, closer than he imagines he can when Remus seems so distant, only a concept in the night. With a particularly powerful thrust of his tongue into Remus’ swollen hole and the barest touch of his cock, Remus falls apart around him. And the oddest thing is, as Remus loses his grounding, Sirius finds his own.

And on that dark silent night, he sends a dark silent prayer to anyone who may be listening by sending his lover to a place of ecstasy and clutching him until long after he returns.


End file.
